


To Ruin

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence - His Last Vow, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Sexual Content, Sickfic, Virgin Sherlock, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Sherlock demanded to be released from the hospital as soon as he was admitted.  </p><p>“You’re not leaving.”  Mycroft informed him.  “At least not without proper supervision.”</p><p>Sherlock glared at him as he shoved aside the deplorable food.</p><p>“I’m serious, Sherlock.  This is for your own good.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a sickfic... And then it evolved. 
> 
> I've had two cesareans and ankle surgery so I know that surgical incisions HURT. It's strange that Sherlock shows no discomfort after having his chest opened. I had to fix that. And then it somehow morphed from being a recovery fic to sexual exploration fic. It outgrew the canon.
> 
> Enjoy!

Of course Sherlock demanded to be released from the hospital as soon as he was admitted. 

“You’re not leaving.” Mycroft informed him. “At least not without proper supervision.”

Sherlock glared at him as he shoved aside the deplorable food.

“I’m serious, Sherlock. This is for your own good.” Mycroft swiped the neglected pudding and a spoon. It was chocolate, his favorite.

Sherlock gave a weary sigh. “What if I promise to be careful?”

“Careful like last time when you pulled open your stitches and nearly bled-out because you had to go prove something to John Watson?” Mycroft demanded, somehow looking less threatening with a dab of chocolate pudding in the corner of his mouth. “What was that about?”

“Don’t you know?” Sherlock asked carefully.

Mycroft shrugged and licked the spoon. “Sources tell me that John Watson has abandoned his lodgings with his bride and returned to Baker Street.”

Sherlock tried not to smirk.

“I could release you to the good doctor IF…” Mycroft let that “if” hang as he set the empty pudding bowl and spoon back onto the tray. “If you follow his instructions to the letter. I know if you’re left in his care he will have your best interests at heart. I also know you cannot terrorize him as you have done to the medical staff here.”

“They started it…” Sherlock mused.

“I don’t want to hear it. You want out of here, these are my terms. You obey John Watson no matter how useless you think it is. He is the doctor, not you. If he says, ‘get in that bed and don’t get up until I tell you to,’ you say…”

“Yes, master?” Sherlock snickered softly to himself.

“I’m serious, Sherlock!” Mycroft growled. “You’ve worn out your welcome here. I will not have you dying because you’re too much of an ass to behave yourself for a few weeks while your wound heals. They want you gone just as much as you want to leave but you can’t do that without professional care. For some reason John has returned to Baker Street. I will not pry.”

Sherlock gave him a look. “You won’t pry?”

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked away, a flicker of something in his eyes.

“You know about Mary.” Sherlock breathed.

“Of course I know about Mary. If I had my way…” Mycroft frowned. “If she harms you again I will not have such self restrained.”

Sherlock wearily rubbed his face with the back of his hand. It seemed Mycroft had raised his pain medication dosage.

“So… John Watson?”

“Fine… Fine…” Sherlock sighed as he felt himself drift off once again.

^.~

Sherlock woke in a familiar bedroom. Surprise made him sit up and he instantly regretted it with the sharp, burning pain from his incision scar. Easing himself back down, he stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, somewhere John Watson must have been keeping tabs on him because at that moment the door to the bedroom opened and John stepped in. 

“You’re awake.” It wasn’t a question. John had known Sherlock was conscious. 

“Is Mycroft forcing you to watch feed from this room?” Sherlock asked.

John gave a bit of a shrug. “A bit. It has taken over the telly. Round the clock coverage of you. BBC One is a view from the ceiling. BBC Two is from the far corner, aimed at the door. And BBC Three…” John gave a soft chuckle. “BBC Three is a close up of your pillow.”

“I’ll murder him!” Sherlock seethed, attempting to get up and only remembering his incision when it burned in protest. “Damn…”

John sat on the edge of the bed. “You can’t get up for at least two more days.”

“Piss off…” Sherlock replied, noticing the IV that was attached to his arm.

“I mean it, Sherlock. Mycroft demanded it.”

“What about the toilet?” Sherlock demanded.

John reached down beside the bed and picked up a bedpan. 

Sherlock stared at the bedpan and then turned his attention to John and back to the pan again. “I have to use that.” And then he started to struggle, his abdominal and chest muscles too sore to allow him mobility. 

John set down the pan and reached for Sherlock, helping him sit up on the bed. “What do you need?”

“Urine.” Sherlock answered. 

“Ok…” John turned around to pick up a flannel. “This goes under you so you so you don’t get anything on the bed.” Gently he rolled Sherlock to the side and set the flannel under him before helping him sit up. Grabbing the pan he placed it between Sherlock’s legs. 

“This is… Embarrassing…” Sherlock mumbled as he took aim.

“Just think of all the times you burst in on me when I was trying to use the toilet…” John answered, looking away to give Sherlock his privacy even though he could hear exactly what was going on. “You didn’t care if I was in the shower or using the toilet… Or brushing my teeth.”

“Mm…” Sherlock hummed in agreement as his flow slowed to a drip. “Done.”

“Feel better?” John asked as he pulled the pan away and covered it.

“Yes.” Sherlock answered as he began to pull at the snaps of his hospital gown.

John eyed Sherlock as he picked up the pan. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t like the way it feels.” Sherlock answered as he tossed the gown aside, leaving himself completely naked.

“You’re going to be cold.”

“Yes, because one thin hospital gown will protect me from the Arctic chill in my bedroom.” 

John sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you want to lay back down again?”

Sherlock waved him off.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Call out if you change your mind.” John departed to go deal with the bedpan, returning after several long minutes with a clean pan and fresh flannels. “I half expected you to wander off…”

Sherlock frowned and watched John move about the room. “So how does this work?”

“Bed rest? It’s like when you were in hospital… But instead of a nurse seeing to your every need you have me. I’ll feed you, wash you, I’ll help you in your bodily functions. And after Mycroft’s time limit is up I will assist you as you take over doing those things for yourself. You are going to be sore for a while. I’ll dispense the pain meds.” Vaguely he gestured to the IV and the hanging bag beside the bed. “That’s pretty much it. You are under my professional care round the clock for the next 48 hours… And then I will assist you in the recovery process.”

“Why?” 

“What do you mean, ‘why’? I’m a doctor. That’s what doctors do.”

Sherlock shook his head and attempted to lay back down on his own, wincing at the fresh burning sensation in his chest.

John reached for him and helped him to lay back down. “Lift your bottom.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“The flannel under you. I need to wash it.”

“My bottom isn’t that dirty…” Sherlock replied as he obeyed.

John cast the flannel with the other things that needed washing. “I’ll wash it later today.”

That amused Sherlock and he lay on his back, smiling at the ceiling. “You’ll wash my bottom?”

“I’m going to wash everything… Except maybe your hair. It’s only two days.” John lightly touched the curls as if to check on them. “After I clean your incision I’ll clean the rest of you.”

“Everything?” Sherlock mused.

“Your face, your arms… Your legs…”

“My butt!” Sherlock giggled.

“And your penis.”

Sherlock stopped giggling and glanced down at himself. The blanket covered him to the waist. The thought of John touching him even on a professional level made his penis twitch with interest. 

“Get some rest…” John bent down to pick up the discarded flannels. “I’ll go wash these and make you something to eat. You’re going to eat it, by the way, even if I have to spoon feed you.” 

“Like you can force me to eat…” Sherlock mused to himself as John left the room. The medication was making him sleepy.

^.~

“Other arm...” John instructed and immediately got a Sherlock’s hand in his face. Patiently he ran the cloth over the thin appendage. The drying cloth followed the wet cloth and he laid the appendage back down on the bed. “Ok… Now I’m going to start on your legs.” The blanket was pushed to the side as John continued to work.

Sherlock lay passive on the bed. The wound cleaning at the beginning of the washing process had shown him just how serious his injury really was. It still leaked blood. The flesh at his incision was swollen. There was bruising where his chest had been opened to get at his heart.

“It looks good…” John stated when he finished cleaning the wound and covering it again with gauze, tape and bandages. 

“It looks…”

“It looks bad now but it should heal. You should only have a little bit of scarring.”

And after that verdict John started the sponge bath process, leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts unless he asked for an appendage. 

“Alright… Now I’m going to roll you over onto your side.” John guided Sherlock onto his side and helped him prop up his foot. The doctor ran the wet cloth down Sherlock’s back. “There’s scarring here. I don’t remember ever seeing these before. Sherl?”

“I was tortured.” Sherlock answered.

“Tortured!?” John pulled away, but then saw Sherlock flinch and resumed his work, using the drying cloth. “You were tortured? When? When you were away?”

“Yes. Several times. They caught me and… But I got through it.”

John lightly traced one of the more prominent scars with his fingertip. “You didn’t get any medical aid for these…”

“How could I? My doctor was here. I was alone out there…” Sherlock answered. 

“You could have told me. You could have taken me with you.”

“No, I couldn’t. I could barely keep myself alive. They would have killed you.”

John took a deep breath and held it for a long moment before letting it out. Lightly he patted Sherlock’s hip. “Ok… Embarrassing part.” With the wet cloth he reached through Sherlock’s legs wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s penis.

Sherlock shut his eyes and felt the warm, wet tug of John’s hand. It worked his length before sliding down to his scrotum. Desperately he fought to keep his knees open when all his body wanted to do was clamp them shut and trap John’s hand there. Too soon it was over. But then John had the drying towel and Sherlock was already too hard. Biting his lip, he tried to focus on something other than the desperate need to ejaculate. And then John’s cloth moved on to his scrotum and for several deliriously pleasurable moments he felt the skin of John’s hand when the cloth bunched up wrong and removed itself as a barrier between them. John’s knuckles grazed him and he reached down to grab himself, terrified that he was going to ejaculate. His knees clamped shut just as John pulled his hand away.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Sherlock squeezed the base, knowing it would stop the urge to ejaculate.

“Sherlock? Did I hurt you?”

“’M fine!” Sherlock managed between gasps for air. “Just… Let me be for a minute.”

“I’m not done.” John replied.

“I know… I want you to finish… I just… Oh…” His body was too far gone.

“What? What is it?” John demanded. Obviously the good doctor couldn’t properly see what affect his washing had on his patient, especially since Sherlock’s body was tipped towards his front. “Sherlock… You can’t lay like that… Your wound…”

Sherlock grit his teeth. 

“Come on, Sherlock… I promise I won’t be bothered. Roll over again… Come on…” John lightly patted Sherlock’s hip and gently eased him onto his back.

And that’s when Sherlock ejaculated. 

John stood there, staring down at the detective, cum on his cheek… And eyebrow. And some in his hair. Much of it was on Sherlock. 

Sherlock refused to open his eyes, disgusted at his body’s own weakness. 

John wrung out the wet cloth and began the process of cleaning up. Starting at the source he wiped Sherlock’s hands and his penis before going after the rest on his belly and arm. One drop had reached his chest but it did not interfere with the bandages. “Sorry about that…” John whispered as he wrung out the cloth. “I should have known…” Finishing up, he smiled at a worried looking Sherlock. “It’s ok. It’s natural.”

“You have my ejaculate on your eyebrow!” Sherlock burst out. 

“I’ll live. I’ll take a shower after I finish bathing you.” Absently he rubbed at his eyebrow and cheek with the back of his hand. “Roll over again.” Guiding Sherlock on his side he finished with Sherlock’s ass, outside and in before drying it. Removing all the extra flannels he helped Sherlock onto his back and tucked him in under the blankets. “There we are.”

When John was gone, Sherlock brooded at the ceiling. John didn’t even have time to appreciate his bottom… Which was one of his best features… Aside from his brain. The poor doctor spent very little time on it and seemed almost too eager to be gone. A few minutes after the laundry began the shower started. John spent a long time in the shower. That was not a good sign.

^.~

It seemed John had forgotten what Sherlock had done… Or else he was pretending nothing had happened. John was very good at ignoring the elephant in the room… Or the penis. And yet the next day his sponge bath technique was just as thorough. 

Sherlock made sure to get a good wank in while John was in the other room gathering supplies so he wouldn’t embarrass himself again. It seemed he had perfect timing. The tissue was tossed in the waste basket and John returned. Most of the bath was spent with acceptably limp genitals. And then the end bit started. Sherlock desperately tried to think of something other than what John’s hand was doing. His mind flit from one topic to the next. 

His mind palace was of no use. It only showed him something he called “the dungeon.” It was filled with the sound of moans and cracks of a whip. In a deep, dark corner was the sound John made when he climaxed during masturbation. That sound always made Sherlock excited so he tried not to think of it too much. The dungeon remained locked away so as not to cause any distraction. But it seemed that something as benign as a sponge bath was enough to allow it to open its doors and put all Sherlock’s hidden needs on display like a red light district at dusk. 

Thankfully John’s hand pulled away. 

The red light district turned off its lights and packed itself back up into the dungeon while John rinsed out the cloth. It was enough time for Sherlock to seal the doors tight. 

John gently washed the detective’s bottom. Working over the muscle and fat before following the crease, back and forth, deeper and deeper. 

Sherlock moaned, he couldn’t help it. The sensation belonged in his dungeon. Nothing so dirty should feel so good. 

“Are you alright?” John asked, his voice full of worry. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…God no…” Sherlock answered. 

John stopped and reached for the drying cloth, careful to dry everything. When he was done he replaced the sheets and helped Sherlock get comfortable in the bed again. “Tomorrow you can do that for yourself.”

“Do I have to?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“I would think you would prefer washing your own bottom.” John answered as he picked up all the laundry. “But I will be there to supervise since you’ll still be sore.”

And that got Sherlock thinking about sore bottoms. His dungeon opened up to reveal what little he had learned about anal sex before he firmly shut it and tossed away the key because he really didn’t want to wank again.

It helped that his mobile buzzed. Blindly reaching for it, he read the text. It was from Mycroft. Immediately he felt his cheeks burn. Annoyed, he dropped the mobile onto the floor where he couldn’t reach it. 

HE IS STILL MARRIED AND HAS A CHILD DUE IN FEBRUARY. –M

The message glowed on the screen for a minute before it finally faded away.

^.~

“Feet to the floor. There we go. Push yourself up. Good.” John smiled at Sherlock’s progress in learning to use other muscles to sit up. “Go as slow as you need to.” Hastily he picked up the fresh hospital gown and attempted to dress the detective.

Sherlock pushed the gown away with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to the bathroom.” 

“And I need to be dressed for that? I’ve watched your pattern… You are just going to take it off of me when we get there and discard it for washing to give me another one.”

“But it’s not professional!” John snapped back.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. “If I wanted professional I’d still be in hospital. You don’t mind and I don’t mind so why this pretense of modesty?”

John pursed his lips and frowned. 

Sherlock held out his hand.

John helped the detective stand up. They walked together into the bathroom with Sherlock only occasionally needing his assistance. A couple of days allowing his muscles to cramp made him less than graceful. 

“Why does this hurt so much? It didn’t hurt before…”

“You tore out your stitches. They had to put more stitches in to hold you together.” John answered as he guided Sherlock to sit on the toilet as he drew the bath. 

“Can it be hot this time?”

John cast him a look as he kept his hand in the flow to monitor it. “You can’t even fully immerse yourself yet.” Shutting off the water, he stood back from the tub. “Are you ready?”

Sherlock used the wall to brace himself as he stood on wobbly legs. On his own he managed to get to the tub and John helped him climb in. 

“You’re doing so well, Sherl…” 

^.~

“Where have you been?” John demanded as he stood before the front door.

Sherlock used his IV stand to support himself as he passed through the living room on the way to his bedroom. 

“Sherlock! Get back here!”

“I’d rather not right now…” Sherlock answered over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom.

John gave chase and watched Sherlock sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Somehow I managed to lose you when you were confined to bed rest. All the video showed was you leaving this room. I was gone for 10 minutes, Sherlock… Just 10! And you were out the door!”

Sherlock gave a weary sigh and reached up to unfasten his hospital gown. “I’m in pain right now, John.”

“Yeah… Because you can barely walk and yet you somehow stumbled up and down a flight of stairs to God knows where and back again. Where were you?”

“Angelo’s…” Sherlock answered as he managed to take off his hospital gown and toss it away. “You going to help me back into bed or not?”

John set his jaw and helped Sherlock onto his back. His fingers picked at the edge of the dressing. “Let’s see what you did…”

“I was careful…” Sherlock answered.

John gave a critical study of the wound. “You didn’t tear anything. There’s a little oozing.” Carefully he replaced the dressing. “Why did you go to Angelo’s?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I… Magnussen.”

John stared at the man in the bed for a long time as if trying to understand what he meant. Finally he shook his head. “Right. I hope that’s the last trip you plan to take until you fully recover. Mycroft is going to get rid of me if I can’t take care of you.”

“I was careful…” Sherlock whispered.

John tucked him in and raised the medication. “This should help with the pain.” 

“Thank you, John…” Sherlock murmured as he felt himself slide under.

^.~

Sherlock woke and for once he didn’t feel the burning sensation in his chest. Not that it didn’t hurt, it did. There was a sharp pain but it didn’t feel like his skin was on fire. The IV had been removed the day before and he was on pain pills. They were under John’s care, of course. 

Sherlock sat up carefully and pulled on his dressing gown. It was nice to be able to do so without his IV getting tangled in the sleeve. And with some semblance of normalcy he made his way into the living room to find John sleeping on the sofa.

It was clear that John had spent the past week or more camped out on the sofa. His duffle bag was nearby and there was an assortment of things he normally kept on a nightstand sitting on the coffee table. John had returned to Baker Street but he did not take back his bedroom at the top of the stairs. Seeing him and his few possessions made Sherlock wonder just how long he planned to stay. What he was seeing was temporary and it bothered him.

John startled awake and looked at the detective before glancing at the telly and then the detective again. The video feed on the telly showed Sherlock’s empty bed. John sighed and slouched back down on the sofa, stretching a bit. “Do you want some tea? Breakfast?”

Sherlock sat on the coffee table and regarded John as he sleepily tried to make sense of the early morning. “Tea is fine.”

John yawned and covered his mouth. “Let me just… Just put on trousers or something…” Casting aside the blanket he sat up to reveal that he was wearing his pants and a vest. “What time is it?”

Sherlock shrugged. “6:45? My mobile is low on battery.” 

John blearily scratched at his chest and then got up to go looking for his trousers, finding the next to his duffle. With some difficulty he managed to pull them on before heading to the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m not really hungry yet.” Sherlock answered as he watched John ignore his response and pull out eggs, bread and a variety of other things.

“You’re supposed to eat under my supervision.” John responded as he went about, going through cupboards. “Oh! I’m going to take out the last of your stitches today.”

Sherlock looked down at his chest. Most of the bandages came off once the stitches came out. The last bit was the bullet hole.

“After I take them out you can have a proper shower if you like.” 

Sherlock took a deep breath. “And then what?”

“And then what… What?” John turned around to face Sherlock.

“You take out my stitches and I’m no longer under your medical care. Then what?”

“Then you can go back to doing what you were doing… You’ll have to take it easy for a while because you’ll be sore. But you will be sufficiently healed.”

“And then you’ll leave?”

“Leave?” John echoed, ignoring the toast that popped up behind him.

“You have a wife… A child.”

John frowned and stared at the floor, ignoring the kettle clicking off.

“The water will get cold.”

John resumed his task of making breakfast in silence as if on autopilot. Soon everything was set on the table. “Come sit down.”

Sherlock got up from the coffee table and carefully made his way into the kitchen. The soreness made his movements awkward.

John took the other spot and stared at the food, his fingertips playing with his mug’s handle. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Sherlock replied before taking a bite of egg.

“You just said…”

“I asked you about your plans. Do you plan to stay here forever? What about Mary and the baby? Are you just going to pretend you’re not a husband and a father?”

“Sherlock…”

“You always have a place here.”

“I know that.”

“And yet you’ve been sleeping on the sofa…”

“The surveillance is set up down here. And the last time I left you unsupervised for ten minutes you escaped!”

Sherlock made a face at that. Was he the reason John was forced to sleep on the sofa? “Are you leaving Mary and your child?”

John frowned at his cup of tea. “I have to think about it.”

“Your room is still available…”

“I know that.”

“Then use it.”

“I plan to.”

“Fine…”

“Fine.” John took a sip of tea. “I need a shower.” And with that he was up from the table and left for the bathroom, leaving Sherlock alone. 

Sherlock stayed where he was for several minutes listening to the water. Finally he got up and went to listen at the bathroom door. Inside he heard the telltale sounds of John masturbating. Sherlock pulled away and regarded the door. Did John miss Mary that much? Or was it something else? Through the door he heard John’s muted cry as he found release. The sound went straight to his own penis and caused it to harden with interest. 

With a weary sigh he returned to his bedroom to look upon his bed. The sheets needed changing but he found he did not quite have the energy to change them. Really it was a wonder he had energy enough to even be standing after what he had gone through. Death takes a lot out of a person. Lounging on the bed, he tried to ignore the arousal between his legs.

Many people thought he was incapable of sexual arousal and it just wasn’t true. The sensation was there, plaguing him since puberty. From time to time it reared its ugly head. The past couple of weeks of John touching him had brought back all the sensations with a vengeance. John caused chemical responses Sherlock couldn’t ignore no matter how many times Mycroft texted to remind him of how futile those responses were. 

Idly his hand reached down to touch himself. Instantly his dungeon opened up and John’s moans echoed through his mind palace. It didn’t take very much. A firm squeeze and a flick of the wrist, replaying John’s cry of ecstasy. “John…” Sherlock whimpered as he felt the familiar release. The wetness mostly caught on his hand and his belly. With the amount of wanking he had been doing his volume was lower than usual. Reaching for a tissue he carefully wiped away the evidence and tossed it away.

John knocked at the door before entering the room. For a long moment he stood in the doorway staring at the half naked detective on the bed. “Right then… Removing the last of your stitches…”

Sherlock began to try and undo the bandage. 

The doctor sat down on the edge of the bed and slapped Sherlock’s hands away to do it himself. 

Watching John’s hands, Sherlock tried to forget about the sensation of them on his skin. His penis twitched with interest.

With a frown and a purse of the lips John focused on the bandage and then the wound it revealed. Too soon he had the last of the stitches clipped and pulled as he check the healing. “This will just be a bit of a divot…”

“You mean I’ve ruined my future career modeling knickers?”

John nearly dropped his scissors as he burst into giggles. “Is that what you planned for your retirement? A lingerie model?” 

Sherlock idly touched his scars. “Well now I’ll never be…”

“It doesn’t look that bad as far as scars go.” John answered, setting aside the scissors.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my doctor.”

“I’m not the one who put the stitches in. Your surgeon gets credit for that.”

“You provided the after care.” Sherlock pointed out. 

“I was still bollocks at it. You escaped to talk to Magnussen.” 

“Had to show him I wasn’t dead.”

“But you did die…”

“Not for long.”

“Mary killed you…” John whispered, staring at the red, healing scar on Sherlock’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, John.”

“I’m the one that married her.” With a soft grunt John rose from the bed. 

“Yes, you did… And I stood at your side at your wedding.”

“God, Sherlock… What are we going to do?” John whispered, staring at Sherlock’s left thigh. “What she did to you… But she’s the mother of my child.” Rubbing his face, he turned away to regard all the hospital supplies in the room. “What do you want me to do?”

Biting his lip, Sherlock imagined many things he could ask of John in that moment. Instead his mind stopped on the most practical. “I’m better now… You should go upstairs to your old room and get some sleep in a real bed.”

And then John yawned. The yawn lasted almost too long, hinting at the actual exhaustion of the over worked doctor. Finally he was able to nod and speak. “I could use a nap.”

“Go to bed, John.”

John nodded and headed towards the door. At the threshold he paused to look back. “Call me if you need anything?”

“Of course.” Sherlock answered, resolving not to do so for at least twelve hours so John could have a proper rest.

John offered a fond smile before turning away. “Ta, then…”

^.~

Sherlock woke, surprised that he had even fallen asleep. And yet there he was in his bed, being startled awake by the sound of his phone. The ringtone told him it was Mycroft. Blearily the detective reached for his mobile, wondering if John was the one to plug it in. Pulling out the charger, he answered. “Hello, Mycroft.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You know you did.” Sherlock murmured, not completely awake. 

“Are you done torturing John Watson?”

That woke Sherlock up and he sat up, grunting as his incision gave a sharp protest. “Torture?”

“What do you think you’ve been doing to him these past two weeks?” Mycroft demanded.

“What are you going on about?”

“I took the liberty of preparing a montage video of your finest moments.”

“My what?”

“Go into the living room and turn on the telly.”

With some effort Sherlock managed to get out of bed and pull on his dressing gown before stumbling into the living room. Really he didn’t want to play Mycroft’s little game… But if he something he did had caused John harm in some way…

The telly came on and he saw the video feed of himself laying on his bed completely naked, wanking. 

“Did you ever wonder how he knew when you were done? He could see everything.” 

The phone fell from Sherlock’s fingers as he stared in shock at himself writhing on the bed. There were gasps for breath and low moans. The feed had sound! His own voice cried out as he ejaculated into his own hand. The next sequence started and he began again, this time more confident in his movements. “John…” A breathless whisper as he squeezed himself and ejaculated. And then another… And another! One after the other. Different days, different private moments playing out on the telly complete with grunts, moans and the occasional call for John… Always John. 

“John… John please…” Sherlock shut his eyes, not wanting to see himself. “Oh God…” His video self moaned and Sherlock finally looked, seeing himself with his fingers probing someplace deep and dirty. And John had seen all of this? Every day John watched and made sure Sherlock was done before entering the room as if nothing had happened?

“What are you watching?” John’s voice asked.

Sherlock startled, not hearing the doctor enter the living room. For a long, embarrassing moment he heard himself on the video feed moaning as his fingertips found his prostate and he shamelessly worked it. Blindly he reached out for the remote to shut off the telly and he stared at the blank screen for a long time.

John nervously shifted from foot to foot.

“Sherlock?” Mycroft’s voice queried from the forgotten mobile.

Sherlock reached down and disconnected his phone. “You… Saw all of that?”

John nervously cleared his throat and then nodded before giving a soft “yes.”

“That’s how you knew when… When to come in?”

John nodded again.

“Well… This is… Awkward.”

“Is it? You are one of the most immodest people I know and you find that awkward?” John offered with a small smile.

“It was the name bit I’m thinking about…” Sherlock admitted.

“Ah… I see.” John crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t mind my watching as long as I can’t hear you.”

“Mycroft mentioned torture…” Sherlock carefully began.

“Torture?”

“What I did… Bothered you?” Sherlock looked up at John who still loomed over him.

“I wouldn’t characterize it as torture. Where would he get that idea?” John frowned and sat down.

“He must have seen some of your reactions.”

“I took a lot of showers.” John answered. “Some long showers… Some cold showers.”

“Because you felt dirty?”

“No… Not dirty.” John rubbed his face wearily. “Sherlock… You called out my name while you… Stuff like that affects people.” 

Sherlock felt his heart sink. “If you want to leave… I understand.”

“Sherlock, I’m not leaving you.” John leaned back on the couch. “At least not right now. I told you… I haven’t given much thought to Mary or the baby. I’m concerned about you. You died! I just need to focus on you right now.”

“I made you uncomfortable…”

John shrugged. “We all do it. It’s normal. But not everyone has cameras hidden in their bedroom, recording every detail to broadcast to their care giver.”

“But you don’t call out my name.” Sherlock pointed out. 

John made a face, his eyes on the blank telly screen. “What does it mean?”

Sherlock looked over the man beside him in confusion. His observation told him that John looked conflicted about something. There was nervousness and shyness. “What do you mean?”

John’s looked even more confused and distressed. “I’ve never known you to do that before and suddenly every single day. What changed? Was it the fact that you nearly died? Was it because you got used to it with Janine? I moved away and suddenly you crave it? Is it an experiment? You seemed to hate it when the Woman was… Well… But now?”

Sherlock shrugged and leaned back into the couch. “I suppose it’s a craving. I never had time for it before. At the moment I have nothing but time. It serves a purpose, of course.”

“Does it?” John perked up.

“It keeps me from embarrassing myself when you touch me.” Sherlock answered, staring at the blank telly as if it still played his actions for him. 

“This is about… That first sponge bath? When you…? Sherlock have you been doing it to keep from…?”

“You were horrified with what I did.” Sherlock breathed, his eyes focusing on the screen as if it would replay that scene. “I had no control and you…”

“I… I wasn’t horrified. I was just surprised.” John reached out but his hand and then pulled it away. “I didn’t know you would have that reaction to me.”

“Well I do.” 

“I know that now.”

“If I could release it before you came in then it wouldn’t happen again.”

“So every single day…” John took a deep breath and held it before letting it out again. “You got off on my giving you a sponge bath?”

“Don’t be so crude, John.”

“So I wasn’t imagining things.”

“Are you angry at me?”

“Why would I be angry at you?”

Sherlock turned to look at the man, trying to assess if he was in any way deceiving him. “You’re a married man, John! You have a child on the way. They are your family! You love her in a way you can never love me. And there I am getting my semen in your hair because I can’t control myself when you touch me for something as benign as a sponge bath!”

“I am not angry, Sherlock!” John insisted. “Do you have any idea why I took so many showers?”

“I told you I thought I made you feel dirty…”

“No, Sherlock… That wasn’t the reason.” John shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sherlock bristled at the insult and looked away feeling very foolish for having revealed his feelings to John. 

“Do you want me to give you a sponge bath? Right now?”

Suddenly all the detective’s blood pooled in his lap and he felt his penis harden. “I… Would you give me a few minutes first?”

“No… Right now.”

“John… We can’t. You’re married. Your child…”

“She killed you.” John scooted closer on the couch, his leg resting against Sherlock’s. 

“I’m alive, John.” 

“She betrayed me… Betrayed us.”

“There can’t be an ‘us,’ not really.” Sherlock’s body shivered, feeling the press of John against him.

Reverently John leaned in and lightly kissed Sherlock’s chest at the base of the V where the dressing gown closed. It was a few inches above the hole placed there by John’s wife.

Sherlock reached for John’s head, holding him in place as he felt warm breath and moist mouth against his exposed skin. Between his legs his penis was fully erect and aching to be touched. 

John pulled away to look up into Sherlock’s face. “Can we have just one moment where there’s only us?” 

Mutely Sherlock nodded, uncaring what John meant. At that moment he would agree to anything if it kept John close, even if it was only for a few hours.

“I thought I lost you.” John whispered, cupping Sherlock’s cheek in his hand. “I’ve lost you before. This time… They declared you dead. But you came back. Why did you come back?”

And for a moment Sherlock was lost, reliving the moment when at the very end of life his own demons in Moriarty’s form mocked him… That he couldn’t protect John. “You.”

“Me?” John looked unsure. “You came back for me?”

Sherlock surged forward and kissed the other man’s lips, marveling at the sensation. A bit of unshaved chin scraped against his as he nipped at John’s lower lip. John cried out and Sherlock used the opportunity to explore John’s teeth with his tongue… Encountering John’s as it lazily brushed against his own. 

Finally John pulled away to pant softly. “Who taught you how to kiss?”

Sherlock licked his lips, still tasting John there. “Janine.”

“Janine? Really?”

“Who taught you to kiss?” The detective retaliated.

John stalled, his face going blank as he desperately searched his memory. 

Seeing John search a long memory of girlfriends gave Sherlock just a hint of jealousy and he wrapped his arms around John to pull him into another kiss. This time it was dirtier and deeper.

For several long moments John complied before he began squirming and then pull away to pant heavily. “You have a wicked tongue.”

“That was a given.” 

“About that sponge bath…” Idly John began to trace out the pattern of the bath using only his hand. 

Sherlock relaxed against the back of the sofa, allowing John to caress his chest and arms. At the part when the legs would be exposed he opened his dressing gown and let it fall open, revealing his excitement. 

John traced his way down to Sherlock’s knee and then stopped. “You’re recovering. We really shouldn’t be doing this on the coach.”

“Would you prefer the bed where Mycroft can watch?” Sherlock frowned.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Sherlock pulled John to him again and kissed him, using one hand to explore John’s body. His strong back and round bottom. The man moaned when Sherlock squeezed. And then his hand rounded to the doctor’s front, cupping the mound in his trousers. 

John pulled away to gasp for air. “Fuck, Sherl!” 

Sherlock grinned, knowing that was his goal. His hands desperately sought to undo John’s trousers, managing to push them down past his hips and exposing the hard, hot, heavy cock into his hand.

“Fuck, Sherl…” John moaned again, resting his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as he rocked against the hand that held him. 

Sherlock pushed the trousers down further so more of John was exposed. His free hand cradling the other man’s scrotum. 

“Sherlock… Please…” John stilled and seemed to take assessment of himself. One leg on the couch, crouched over Sherlock with his other foot on the floor. “We can’t just roll around on the couch like horny teenagers.”

“I was never a horny teenager.” Sherlock answered, squeezing John’s scrotum gently.

“We need a better position or else we’re going to hurt each other.” John announced.

Sherlock pulled his hands away from John’s genitals and rearranged himself on the couch so he was laying on his back. Raising an eyebrow, he stared up at John expectantly.

John scurried to the front door and locked it before returning to the couch and pulling off his clothes until only his vest remained. 

“What about your vest?”

“You’re still wearing your dressing gown.” John responded.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled his arms out of the sleeves so the robe was spread out beneath him as a barrier over the couch.

John blushed and pulled over the vest, awkwardly sitting near Sherlock’s feet. “I don’t normally have sex with the lights on. My scar is…”

Sherlock’s attention went to the scar. It was puckered and red. The surgeon didn’t do a very good job. Sherlock held out his hand and pulled John on top of him. Guiding him to lay down, skin against skin.

“I should probably be on the bottom due to your incision.”

“Shut up.” Sherlock whispered, wrapping his arms around John’s back and feeling the weight and heat of his body. “Do you find this awkward?”

“Not really. I’m just thinking this can’t be comfortable for you. I’m heavy.”

Sherlock squirmed a little, lifting a knee and wrapping his ankle around John’s. “Does it feel good?”

“The question is does it feel good to you? You’re the one recovering from surgery.” John rested his weight on his elbows so he could lift off Sherlock’s chest and look down at him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sherlock flinched because the pressure on his chest really did hurt. 

John managed to flip them onto their sides, Sherlock flush against the back of the couch and himself at the edge. “It’s better if we spoon.” 

“But then I can’t do this.” Sherlock reached down and caressed John’s penis. 

“Fuck, Sherlock…” John moaned, holding on so he wouldn’t fall off the couch. His hips automatically moved to counterbalance the motion. His own hand reached down and he grasped Sherlock before nearly losing his balance and frantically reaching for the other man’s waist instead. His top knee rested on Sherlock’s hip. “This isn’t going to work. I’m going to fall off.”

“What do you suggest?” Sherlock breathed as he kissed John’s neck. 

“The floor? At least we won’t fall off.” Immediately John pulled away and settled himself on the floor.

Sherlock followed, lounging beside John and pulling him close as he kissed. They rolled together on the floor, trying various positions to find one that wouldn’t bother Sherlock’s incision. At some point he ended up on his back with John’s thigh between his legs as John rubbed against his own thigh. Sherlock watched John’s movement, feeling John’s genitals against his hip as the man made soft grunts of pleasure. Sherlock was too busy watching John move to pay much attention to his own erection. “Can we do more than this?”

John chuckled softly and shook his head. “What would you have us do?”

“You act like I’m going to break.”

“That’s because you are.” 

“You’re too gentle.” 

“And you’re too reckless.”

Sherlock rolled them over and he found himself sitting up between John’s legs, looking down at the way they would fit together if he was inside of John. That made his penis twitch with excitement. 

“No.” John stated. 

“No, what?” Sherlock queried, idly rolling his hips.

“I’m not ready for this position right now.”

Right now? “You don’t like seeing me in this position?”

“That’s the problem. You’re goddamn beautiful in that position. But neither of us is ready for this.” 

“Would you like to switch?” Sherlock smirked as he snapped his hips.

“You are in no condition to do anything like that right now.”

“If not now… When? If this is our only chance to be ‘us’ that means sometime in the future won’t happen. It’s now or never.”

“You died on the operating table two weeks ago!” John protested.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him hard to silence him, not wanting to hear his words. Why didn’t John understand that this was the only moment they would have together? This was his one and only chance to experience sex with someone he wanted to be with. “Fuck me, John… Please… Fuck me…” Vaguely he was aware his pleas sounded much like the surveillance videos Mycroft played for him. “Please John.”

“Sherlock…” John rolled Sherlock onto his side and spooned up behind him. “This?” His penis was caught between Sherlock’s upper thighs and he reached around to take Sherlock in hand. Giving a thrust he began to stroke Sherlock in time with his thrusts. 

Sherlock closed his eyes, feeling John’s erection between his thighs and could almost imagine John inside of him. And then there was something inside of him. It slipped in too easily and for a moment he was confused because it felt like fingers. And yet he could feel John behind him. The world was growing dim and he fought to keep his eyes open so he could see. 

^.~

And then he found himself in his own bed, face pressed into the pillow as his orgasm crested. The sensation of John inside of him was gone and he realized that it hadn’t been real. Closing his eyes, he felt pulse upon pulse wetting his thighs, stomach and the bed beneath him. It had been years since he’d had a nocturnal emission. 

Wearily he got up, still sore. On the floor lay his discarded phone where he had dropped it several days before. The battery was dead. He plugged it in before placing it on the nightstand. Getting up, he went into the bathroom, only noticing too late that it was already occupied.

John sat in a steaming bath and stared up at Sherlock in surprise. 

Sherlock went to the cabinet and pulled out a flannel, wetting it in the sink and beginning the process of cleaning himself. In the mirror above the sink he could see John staring at him and for a moment he was annoyed that everything he had admitted hadn’t been real. Of course the sensation of delayed orgasm no matter the stimulation was often a feature of dreams. One woke feeling completely unsatisfied… Unless they embarrassed themselves. 

“Are you alright, Sherl?” John queried.

“I’m fine!” Sherlock snapped as he tossed the flannel at the hamper. It missed and landed on the floor. With annoyance he crossed the room and bent over to pick it up, causing his incision to protest. Bent over with one hand on the hamper and the other clutched to his chest he breathed through the pain.

Immediately there was a rush of water and John was out of the bath, damply leaning into Sherlock’s space. “What is it? What did you do? Sherlock?”

“It’s nothing… Just my incision.” Sherlock answered, embarrassed that he couldn’t even lift a flannel off the floor without aid.

John helped Sherlock stand and then sit on the toilet lid before fetching a towel for himself, wrapping it around his waist. “What happened?”

Sherlock shrugged mutely, his eyes focusing on John’s shoulder scar. It wasn’t like he imagined it, further distancing the dream from reality. 

John bent down to pick up the flannel and toss it into the hamper. “They’re normal, you know.”

“I know.” Sherlock answered quickly.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed about them.” 

Sherlock shook his head. “I haven’t for a very long time. I feel like some… Overgrown teenager.”

John gave a bit of a smirk. “That’s because you are.”

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pulled himself onto his feet.

“Do you need help getting back to bed?”

“No…” And then Sherlock remembered the mess he left behind. “I mean… Yes… The sheets…”

John nodded and headed towards the bathroom door.

“John, wait!” Sherlock called, causing the doctor to stop. “Your timing for sponge baths… Could you…?”

Biting his lips, John’s cheeks turned red. 

Sherlock heart sank. “Was there sound?”

John looked away and pursed his lips, unwilling to meet Sherlock’s eyes.

“I’m… So sorry…” Sherlock whispered, miserable that those details of his dream had been true. “I…”

“It’s alright… It’s natural. I’ll go change your sheets.” John hurried away, leaving Sherlock alone.

At a loss for what else to do, Sherlock followed and watched from the doorway as John stripped the bed and replaced the sheets before remaking it. “It’s not natural.”

“Of course it is.” John responded, fluffing a pillow.

“No, it’s not.”

“Why are you arguing with me?” John asked as he stood up and readjusted his towel. 

“I called out your name.”

John took a deep breath and nodded. “We all call out someone’s name sometimes.” 

“No you don’t!”

“You listen to me?”

Sherlock was caught. “Sometimes… Sometimes sound travels. It’s not like this. You don’t have a video camera picking up everything.”

“I’m telling you it’s not something to be worried about.” John attempted to walk past Sherlock.

“Do you even want to know why I did it?” Sherlock demanded.

“No… Not really.” John’s hand rested on where his towel was tucked in.

“I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“Sherlock… I should have noticed that you were becoming excited and stopped. What happened wasn’t your fault. It’s your body’s natural reaction to stimulation.”

“Is it?” Sherlock demanded. “Has it ever happened to you before?”

“No… But that’s beside the point.”

“Then how can you claim it’s natural?”

John glanced down at Sherlock’s erection. It was only a flick of his eyes but it was enough to draw Sherlock’s attention down to it as well. “Sherlock… Please go back to bed and rest.”

“You’re disgusted by me.”

“I’m not. I’m really not. It just shows me that you’re human like the rest of us.” John took his hand and pulled him towards the bed and setting him down on the edge.

Sherlock stared at John’s waist near eye level. His hand reached up and caught on the towel, dropping it to the floor.

John stood, his erect genitals contracting just a bit in the cool air of the bedroom.

Sherlock placed his hands on John’s hips, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath his palms. His thumbs caressed John’s lower abdomen. “You’re different than how you appeared in my dream.”

“You’ve never seen me like this before.”

Sherlock lightly traced the circumference of John’s navel, testing it with his index finger with a wiggle of his fingertip. 

“That tickles.” John chuckled softly.

Sherlock’s hand followed the contour of the belly to the hip and down the thigh and around back to the buttocks. 

“Sherlock…” John sighed, standing stiffly before the detective.

Sherlock guided John to turn around so he could draw delicate patterns with his fingertips, tracing the muscle and fat on John’s backside. Both hands squeezed the rounded globes of flesh, making John grunt softly. Sherlock’s fingers traced up the curve of John’s spine before falling back down again and turned the man back around. For a moment he blinked at the fully erect penis that bobbed in his face wondering what John’s reaction would be if he touched it. His eyes met John’s.

John immediately gasped and knelt on the floor between Sherlock’s legs.

“What?” Sherlock whispered, asking the top of John’s head.

“Nothing… It’s nothing. I just thought you were going to… Never mind.” John sat back on his feet and looked up at Sherlock on the bed.

Sherlock patted the edge of the bed. 

John pulled himself up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want, Sherlock?”

Sherlock pointed towards the vacant side of the bed. “I could still use some rest. How about you?”

“Naked?” John queried, raising his eyebrow in amusement. 

“Does it matter?”

John shrugged. “I guess not.” Obediently he climbed into the bed.

At that moment his phone chimed an incoming text message despite the fact that it only had 10% charge. 

SEDUCING JOHN WATSON WILL BE THE WORST MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE –MH 

PISS OFF –S

I AM SERIOUS. IT WILL RUIN BOTH OF YOU –MH

LIKE I HAVE THE ABILITY TO SEDUCE ANYONE –S

YOU DELUDE YOURSELF. HE WOULD DO ANYTHING YOU ASK OF HIM –MH

Finally Sherlock shut off the phone and set it back on the nightstand.

“What was that?” John asked, getting comfortable on the vacant side of the bed he now inhabited.

“Mycroft was annoyed that my mobile’s battery ran out.” Sherlock answered, lounging on his side, facing John.

“I won’t pretend that I consider it perfectly normal to find myself sharing a bed with you while we’re both naked.” 

“It’s like that night with Dartmoor… But with a bigger bed.”

“And more skin.” John added. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into half the things you do…” 

Mycroft’s words made Sherlock scowl. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No.” John replied. “Isn’t that weird? I’ve seen so much of you these past couple of weeks. This doesn’t feel too odd.” A soft chuckle escaped him as he shifted himself in the bed. “I probably could have done without nearly stabbing you in the eye with my dick when you turned me back around. That was pretty mortifying.”

“We’re even, then.” Sherlock smiled.

“What do you mean?”

“The first sponge bath.”

“Oh…” John laughed nervously and rolled onto his side to face Sherlock. “Are you alright, Sherl?”

“You keep asking me that.”

“You died on the operating table two weeks ago.” John answered. “And you’ve become… Well… Before these past few weeks I was pretty sure you were celibate. Something has changed.”

“Boredom? I’m unable to work… Unable to do the most basic of things because of how weak I am.”

“I don’t think it’s that.” John rolled onto his back and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I guess if I really want to pinpoint the change… It would probably be when you came back. Did something happen?”

Sherlock wanted to say that he had thought about John on some level every hour of every day of his hiatus. When he fell asleep in utter exhaustion it was with the thought that each day brought him closer to returning to his only friend. Instead he took a deep breath and scooted closer to John in his bed. Married, loyal John… The man Mycroft claimed would easily be seduced. John wasn’t that easy… Was he? His hand touched John’s fingers. “I was just lonely. For the first time in my life I understood true loneliness.” That wasn’t seductive, was it? “I missed you.” A piece of himself had been torn away, leaving him empty and bloody like every sappy love song ever written. 

“I missed you too.” John answered, adjusting his fingers to lace them with Sherlock’s. 

His pupils were dilated, his breath increased. Did this mean Sherlock really could seduce John if he wanted to? Experimentally he scooted closer and reached out to place his hand on John’s chest. Under his palm John’s heart was racing. The bulge in the duvet told him that John was hard. And with a final squirm he managed to rest his head on John’s shoulder, breathing in his air, smelling his skin. The heartbeat beneath his palm increased and John panted softly against his lips. Aware that the cameras could see everything he pulled the blanket over their heads as he closed the gap between them, kissing John’s lips.

John kissed back. John wasn’t a passive participant, he gave as good as he got, nearly clashing teeth in his urgency to taste Sherlock. John would not relent for a long time, licking, biting, and nipping for what seemed like hours before releasing Sherlock’s lower lip. 

Sherlock shifted again, feeling John’s side, warm against his front as he crowded the man on the bed. John had to be aware of the erection pressed into his hip and yet he didn’t move away which made Sherlock feel confident that John wouldn’t reject him. His hand slid down John’s body to find him hard and hot in the palm of his hand.

John hissed and caught Sherlock’s hand with his own. “Don’t… I’ll finish too quickly.”

“What would you prefer?” Sherlock breathed, resting his cheek on John’s shoulder in the cavern of the blankets. “I want you to finish.”

“In the video I saw that you keep lube in the nightstand… And that towel?”

Sherlock nearly fell out of the bed in his eagerness to retrieve the requested items. The towel was still damp as he tossed it on the bed and went through his nightstand drawer until he fished out his bottle of oil.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” John cautioned as he spread the towel on the bed under the blankets. 

Sherlock climbed back into bed with his prize, annoyed when John took it from him. “John…”

“Hand out!” John commanded and Sherlock immediately obeyed. John drizzled oil onto Sherlock’s hand and then closed the bottle. Laying on his side, facing Sherlock he opened his knees as he adjusted the blankets over them again. “Use two fingers… And don’t touch anything else yet or this is going to be very quick.”

Sherlock obeyed, pushing two fingers into John, feeling the tight heat surround his digits. “Why you?” Sherlock whispered as his fingers stretched and scissored. “It should be me…”

“You’re recovering from surgery… We shouldn’t be doing this at all!” John answered with a grunt. “Besides… I know what I’m doing.”

“And I don’t?” Sherlock challenged.

John smiled at the detective in the dimness under the blankets. “Now three fingers.”

Sherlock squeezed in his ring finger, marveling at the way John’s body allowed it.

“Ok… Stop… Stop… Let me rest a moment.” John commanded, reaching down to halt Sherlock’s wrist. 

“For how long?” Sherlock whispered.

In answer John dislodged Sherlock’s fingers and opened the oil bottle to coat his own hand. It reached down to coat Sherlock with a motion that was almost too practiced. “On your back.”

Sherlock rolled onto his back and watched helplessly as John made sure to shift the towel mostly under him. “What are you doing?”

“If we roll around I don’t want to remake the bed!” John answered as he settled beside Sherlock. “These are the only sheets you have until we wash the others. Reaching for Sherlock, he guided the detective between his legs. 

“I never imagined you would be this practical…” Sherlock began but soon lost his train of thought when he found himself sliding into John’s warm, tight body. “Oh…” For a long moment he froze, desperately trying not to ejaculate on first entry. 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him down. “As hard as you like.”

Sherlock shivered, trying to stay in control of his body. “John… Please… I can’t move…”

“Slowly… That’s it…” John whispered instructions in Sherlock’s ear, guiding him into a gentle rhythm. “Try not to think about it yet. Just move. Slow and deep. You won’t hurt me. Just build up your stamina a little bit. I know you can do it.”

Sherlock tried not to focus too closely on the sensations, knowing he wouldn’t be able to please John unless he regained control of his body. In the back of his mind he could hear Mycroft commenting on this being a mistake. The distraction helped him gain a little more control as his thrusts evened out. What did Mycroft know, anyway? This was between Sherlock and John. John who wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him in deeper with each thrust. 

“Harder…” John murmured.

Sherlock braced himself against the bed and moved as best he could, awkward from lack of experience and yet desperately trying to obey John’s request. But the sensation was making its way into his brain. This was John, so warm and tight, grunting with each thrust, looking at him with lust filled eyes in the dimness under the blankets. And he wanted to hear John cry out… Wanted to watch him as the ecstasy overwhelmed him. His body couldn’t hold out much longer. Reaching down he wrapped his hand around John’s penis and squeezed. 

And John cried out, filling Sherlock’s fist with warm, wet semen as his body clamped down. 

Sherlock could barely keep his eyes open to witness John’s surrender, his own body was intent on emptying out every bit of his being into John’s warmth. Exhausted he slumped forward, gasping for air as his body recovered. Vaguely Sherlock recalled being pushed onto his back and being cleaned by a warm flannel. The body against his side was warm as it curled up against him. And for the first time in a very long time he fell into a restful sleep that wasn’t clouded by medication or pain.

^.~

When Sherlock woke it was evening and John was gone, but there was indent on the pillow next to him to indicate he had really been there.

His body felt better than it had in ages and he took the opportunity to pull on pajamas before entering the living room… Where he found John watching telly. John had a scowl upon his face as he stared at the telly and Sherlock sat beside him to see what made the former soldier look so annoyed. It was the video feed from the bedroom. The bed was moving. Vague shapes under the blankets moved in a rhythmic undulation. “Is that…?”

“Yes.” John answered, attempting to change the channel and finding it was the same footage but a different angle. 

“Mycroft’s revenge?”

“Apparently…” John sighed before turning off the telly. “He called me and told me to turn on the telly.”

“He has to share his voyeuristic tendencies.” Sherlock mused, staring at the blank telly screen.

“I’ve been sacked.”

“Sacked?” For a moment Sherlock imagined it was a euphemism for what they had done.

“I am no longer to be your doctor. Another will come to help you with the rest of your needs.”

“Why?” 

John shrugged. “I was unprofessional in my behavior… He’s right, you know. I was unprofessional. I should never think with my dick.”

“But it was my dick!” Sherlock insisted. Nervously he reached for John’s hand. “He can’t fire you, John. Surely you know that? You live here… Ok, maybe you technically still live with Mary but you still have a place here.”

John paled at the mention of Mary and gently pulled his hand out of Sherlock’s grasp. “This has all been… Very…”

“John… Whatever he told you… It’s all his way to manipulate you and make you doubt yourself… Doubt us! Mycroft is very good at his job. But it’s not true. You know that. What we did…”

“Sherlock… There is no ‘us.’” John whispered, looking away. 

Sherlock instinctively wanted to run away, to distance himself from John’s words. But he couldn’t. Instead he reached for John’s arms, pulling him around to face him. “Look at me!”

John resisted for only a few seconds before finally meeting Sherlock’s gaze.

“Whatever he told you…”

“I’m married, Sherlock. I’m married to the woman who shot you in the heart.”

Sherlock wanted to silence those words. Pulling John to him he kissed him, pushing his tongue into John’s mouth. John was limp in his arms and the brunette clung to him, trying to will some life into those warm limbs. Finally he ended the kiss but kept his lips close to John’s. “John?”

“I don’t deserve any of this.”

Sherlock’s arms tightened around John’s shoulders, kissing his face. “You do, trust me… You do.”

“No… I…”

“Don’t leave me. I need you.”

“You don’t need me, Sherlock. You need someone who can take care of you properly… Someone who won’t take advantage of you.”

“You haven’t taken advantage. It was my fault. I did it. I seduced you.”

“You…?”

“I didn’t believe Mycroft when he told me I could. I thought you weren’t attracted to me, that you would stop me with disgust or reject me. But you didn’t… You didn’t reject me.”

John made a sound of disgust and pushed Sherlock away. “As that all that was? Some sort of sick bet between you and your brother? You knew I had feelings for you!”

“No! I didn’t! I didn’t know. I didn’t believe Mycroft. What does he know? I was sure he was wrong.”

“And yet you did it anyway. Why?”

Sherlock blinked back at John, feeling hopelessly miserable. “I don’t know… I’ve never done that before.”

“Never?”

“You are the first.”

John stared at Sherlock a long time. “First.”

“What they said about me was true.” Sherlock breathed. 

“You said you knew what you were doing.”

“Just because I haven’t been with someone else doesn’t mean I haven’t practiced on my own.”

John gave a weary sigh and leaned back on the couch, rubbing his face with his hand. “So… What exactly? You saw the opportunity to lose your virginity and made a bet with Mycroft that you could lose it to me?”

“Why do you keep bringing Mycroft into this? No. He told me my feelings for you were mutual and I didn’t believe him until you told me to fetch the lube. He also told me if I acted on my feelings it would be the worst mistake of my life. And that part was correct because now you’re angry at me.”

“Sherlock…”

“But if you had one chance to experience what you desperately wanted wouldn’t you take it?” Sherlock pushed himself up off the couch and turned around to face John. “It could have been an awkward fumbling and quick release… But what did you want?” Reaching for the remote he turned back on the telly. 

The video seemed to be on a loop because it was still going. The moment was perfectly timed because John’s voice was heard saying “Harder!” Even though it had been soft, it could be heard quite clearly.

“That’s unfair, Sherlock.” John growled.

“Harder…” John’s voice on the video demanded.

“This is something we both wanted. Please don’t say it was a mistake.”

John looked away, cringing as he heard himself cry out from his orgasm on the telly. “But it is a mistake. This makes you, what? My paramour? My lover? You deserve to be so much more than that. I don’t know what I was thinking…” The video had looped back and he watched the lump in the bed slowly begin. “Your sexuality was on display, it was intoxicating and you sucked me in. Your fingers on me like how I imagined… Your touch and your kisses. How was I supposed to resist you? I just… I wanted you. I wanted a piece of you. And when you took me… I could feel your power and hear your moans as you fought to keep control of yourself. But eventually you lost yourself in the moment and those moans sounded exactly like what I have been hearing from you these past couple of weeks. You’re breathtaking and powerful and for some reason you wanted to share all that with me. How could I resist? How could I resist you?”

In the background the telly continued as they once again picked up speed to John’s gentle urgings. 

“No one has ever really wanted me once they’ve gotten to know me.”

“Janine did.” John pointed out.

“Not my department.” Sherlock sat upon the coffee table. “Do you want to know why I did it? You have that flattering speech about my power… When I was on the run all I could think about was doing what I had to do so I could return home to you. Those nights when I was tied up or sleeping rough… I wondered where you were and if you ever thought about me. The closer I got to my  
goal the sooner I could go home to you. Every target I took out was one less danger to you. And then I came home and I found out you loved someone else.” Sherlock shifted to the couch. “It hurt. It hurt a lot. But aside from the aching hole I felt… I was content because you were happy. You’ve been so happy. And for a while I was caught up in your happiness. Your wife… Your child… Your life…”

“But that’s all a lie.”

“Not all of it. You’re going to be a father in a few months. The mother of your child desperately needs our help.”

“She shot you in the chest. You died on the operating table.” 

“And in that moment around death I was asked why I should return to this life… What else was there for me? I could easily slip away… But I chose to stay. Because there was something I desperately wanted more than the ease of slipping away.”

“What was that?”

“You.”

John blinked, his mouth open. “Me?”

“Protect you… Be with you… Touch you, laugh with you, cry with you… Love you. I came back to be with you. You need me. Your wife nearly ended my life and I needed to return so I could protect you.” Sherlock stood again. “And that is why I’ve been like a horny teenager. I feel so alive around you. Every time you touch me I think I’ll burst. Then there’s the dreams…” 

“Sherlock…”

“So… I really don’t mind being your paramour. I would happily take any small scrap of love you can give me… If any. Just don’t listen to Mycroft. He doesn’t know anything. You’re the only doctor for me.”

John stood up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s body. “You idiot.” 

“Don’t let Mycroft chase you away.”

“I won’t. I’ll be right here.” John whispered, rubbing Sherlock’s back through the thin cotton shirt. They stood for a long time in the living room, holding each other. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

^.~

Slowly life returned to normal at 221B. Sherlock was healing and he was able to leave bed without feeling overly exhausted by his recovery. John still kept an eye on him when he left the flat. 

The Work returned but it was petty, unimportant. 

“I’m bored!” Sherlock shouted at Lestrade on one occasion.

“Hey! Until you get the all clear you’re not allowed on anything more demanding than stolen bicycles and pick pocketing cases.” Lestrade answered. “I won’t be responsible for you falling down dead because you burst something that is still healing.” Lestrade gave a hard look at the obviously exhausted consulting detective. His attention shifted to John. “Take him home.”

Meekly John obeyed and received the brunt of Sherlock’s annoyance during the cab ride home. 

“They have no idea… NONE!” Sherlock ranted. “I can do this… I can.”

The cab pulled up outside of their building.

“Come along, Sherlock.” John urged after he paid the cabbie.

Sherlock allowed John to pull him out and onto the sidewalk. For a moment he stared at the building John headed towards with his keys out. “John? Let’s run away together.”

“Are you mad?” John turned to regard his pale, slightly dazed best friend. “Come on, Sherlock. Do you need something for the pain?”

“We can take a sex holiday.” 

John returned to Sherlock on the sidewalk and took his arm, guiding him towards the door of the building. “Just come inside.” 

“We can go somewhere… Anywhere! We can go where they don’t know us and I can return to the Work.” 

John unlocked the door and opened it. “Come on.” Gently he pulled the detective and shut the door behind them, urging the man up the stairs to their flat. 

“Please, John… We can start over. We’ll be so happy… I’ll take care of you. No one will ever know who we are or where we came from… Or what happened to me.” Sherlock murmured, his breathing labored from climbing the stairs. “And every night… Every night when I’m not working we can fuck like rabbits, John… On our sex holiday.”

During this speech John managed to lure Sherlock into the bedroom and started to undress him. “How bad is the pain? Is it sharp or dull?”

“Neither…” Sherlock answered as he sat upon the bed.

John listened to Sherlock’s heart and his breathing. When his stethoscope came in contact with an incision scar Sherlock flinched. “Right… You shouldn’t push yourself. You’re still recovering, you know.”

“I’m fine.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

“You are not fine.” John responded. “You are recovering from surgery! Tell me how much pain you’re in… Scale of one to ten.”

Sherlock frowned and bowed his head. “Five.”

John pulled out a vial of pills and dispensed one to Sherlock along with the glass of water on the nightstand.

“Do I have to?” Sherlock moaned, staring at the pill in his hand. “They make me… Loopy.”

John offered him a no nonsense glare.

“I will if you undress and join me.” Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at John.

John gave a defeated sigh and took off his clothes before climbing onto the bed. “No sex this time. You over exerted yourself.”

“Hands? Mouth?” Sherlock asked, holding the pill in his open palm.

“Sherlock…” John took the pill from Sherlock’s palm and pushed it into his mouth. “Drink.” 

Obediently Sherlock swallowed the pill down. “Surely it can’t be over exertion if you lay there and allow me to taste you. You haven’t let me try fellatio yet.”

John paused as if contemplating the pros and cons of the offered blow job. “Lay down.” 

“Why?” Sherlock challenged.

“Because I don’t want you to fall over.” John answered. “That pain pill is going to kick in pretty soon. Just lay back.”

Sherlock obeyed.

John positioned himself between Sherlock’s knees and lay down so his head was in line with Sherlock’s hips. Lightly his fingers traced the soft skin, causing the brunette to squirm and giggle at the sensation. Lightly he breathed warm, moist air that caused the organ to stiffen with interest. And without warning he opened his mouth and sucked it down to the base, humming softly as his nose buried itself in Sherlock’s pubic hair.

“I can’t help… But notice a trend…” Sherlock managed as his hips twitched in response to what John’s tongue was doing to his penis. “I request your input and yet I somehow end up on top so to speak.” 

John gave a bit of a suck, pulling up a bit as the organ grew in his mouth. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might like to have you use me for once?” Sherlock admonished as he adjusted his legs to accommodate John bobbing on his penis, using a hand to hold the base. “What I mean to say is… Why is this all so one sided?”

John paused and looked up, meeting Sherlock’s eyes with his own.

“I won’t break.” Sherlock breathed.

John went back to what he was doing. 

Sherlock watched him work, desperately trying to keep sane while his body reacted to John’s touch. The past few weeks whenever Sherlock suggested sex John was always on the receiving end. His mouth, his hand… His ass. There was nothing inherently wrong with that, Sherlock ejaculated every time. But whenever he suggested that it be his own hand, mouth or ass John declined.

It wasn’t shyness from Mycroft’s surveillance. Those had been found and destroyed over a week ago so they could have freedom in the bedroom without an audience. 

John was affectionate and attentive. His techniques were decent. Sherlock always got off… In fact his body made it clear he would be finishing very soon. John hummed and the vibration made his balls contract. Before he knew it he was depositing his seed down John’s throat.

It occurred to Sherlock as he lay, staring up at the ceiling that his affection for John wasn’t completely requited. The thought made him frown even as he felt John’s lips wetly kiss his belly. “You’re not sexually attracted to me.”

John paused in his kisses. “What?”

“The reason you don’t want to take me… You’re not sexually attracted to me.”

“I’m hard, Sherlock!” John sat up and indicated his erection.

“But you won’t let me satisfy you.” Sherlock challenged. 

“You’re injured.” John answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His body was kneeling between Sherlock’s legs, his erect penis resting on his thighs. 

“I could still give you fellatio… I could still touch you. But you won’t let me. I can only conclude… This arrangement is one sided.”

John lay down on his side next to Sherlock. “I’m still married. I shouldn’t be doing any of this with you.”

Sherlock frowned at John’s words. “So it makes it alright because what? I’m using you for my own selfish pleasure? Am I forcing you?”

“No! Sherlock, no.” John reached out and rested his hand on Sherlock’s cheek. “You’re not forcing me to do anything. I enjoy getting you off. You’re so beautiful when you…” His fingertips caressed Sherlock’s cheekbone. “But I’m also aware that I left my wife to be with you… Because of what she did to you. I could either stay with the woman who betrayed me and killed you… Or I could be here, helping you recover. I can’t lose you again.” John leaned in and lightly kissed Sherlock’s lips. “She betrayed me… But I don’t know if I can take that last step. I can tell myself this is what you want. I’m giving you what you want because she took everything away from you. But it feels like greed if I… If it’s my want.”

Sherlock reached down to take John’s penis in his hand. “You’re allowed to be a little greedy.” 

John cried out and moved his hips to counter Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock…”

Sherlock continued for another minute until he heard John’s moans and breathless cries. Finally he released his hold, leaving John unsatisfied and whimpering in frustration. “I won’t force you.” His arm wrapped around John, pulling him flush against himself. 

John wrapped a leg around Sherlock’s body and moved his hip, seeking out friction against the other man’s thigh.

Sherlock allowed it because it felt good and it made his own penis twitch with interest. But in the back of his mind he knew John would regret it so he rolled away. 

John immediately reached down to wank himself to completion, moaning and whimpering through the pleasure.

Sherlock sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for a tissue to hand to John. 

“Thanks.” John cleaned himself up and tossed the tissue away. “You shouldn’t be sitting up.”

“You don’t want me to be your paramour.”

“Paramour?”

“It’s alright in your mind if you’re my lover… But you don’t want to take a paramour.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course it does. You are my lover. I’ve only ever had you… Emotionally, sexually. But you are married. You are torn between filling the role as my lover and being faithful to a wife that betrayed you. I get a part of your body, your heart… But not all of it. You save things like penetration for her or for yourself. You don’t really consider me to be your lover. If you did…”

“Sherlock…”

“Mycroft was right… Of course he was right. He’s always right. We’ve ruined this.”

“Don’t be like that.” John sat up and wrapped himself around Sherlock’s back. 

“He said it would be the worst mistake of my life.” Sherlock closed his eyes against the sting of tears as he throat squeezed shut. “But I wouldn’t listen. I wanted this so much that I wouldn’t listen.” 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s body and rested his head on the brunette’s shoulder. 

“I thought I would be satisfied with what little you could give me. I thought it would be enough. I didn’t know… I didn’t know how it would FEEL.” Sherlock made a face at that word as it dripped with contempt. “Feel to be satisfied but not loved.”

“Sherlock… Please… Hush.” John attempted to soothe the other man.

“Why are you even in my bed?!” Sherlock demanded as he turned around to glare icy daggers at John. “You don’t want to be here… So why are you?!”

John gave him a hurt look, pain and misery in his eyes. “Sherlock… Please…” His lips lightly kissed Sherlock’s shoulder. 

“John, get out.” Sherlock whispered dangerously.

“No.” John replied, pressing his face against Sherlock’s back. “Listen to me.”

“What can you possibly say? I’ve figured it out already.”

“I love you… So much. If I didn’t then I never would have… If I didn’t then things would have never gotten this far. I would have slept beside you but I never would have… I don’t shag everyone that shows interest in me, you know. I don’t. If I didn’t love you we never would have… But I do. I love you and I want you to be happy. I’m just not ready yet to sever all my ties to Mary. If I have any hope at salvaging what’s left of our marriage… I have to figure out what it means if I take you the way you want me to. I need time. Just a little time. Let me talk to Mary. She should at least know that you plan to keep me.”

Sherlock bowed his head, his hands touching John’s arms that clung to him from behind. “I suppose I can wait. But what if she shoots me again?”

“She can’t have you.” John lightly kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck. His teeth bit gently as his hands clasped Sherlock tighter, his dominant hand covering the healing bullet hole in the other man’s chest. “Mine. Now… Come to bed. That pain pill should be affecting you now. Lay down with me.”

“You make it sound… Biblical.” Sherlock chuckled softly as he was guided down onto the bed.

“And John did lay with Sherlock… And it was good.”

Sherlock giggled softly as the lethargy he had been too worked up to notice finally took over. John covered him with a blanket and curled up behind him, tempting him into sleep. He complied. 

^.~

“…Of course. Yes. We’ll see you at Christmas. Goodbye.” John hung up the phone and set it on the coffee table.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him. 

“She knows now.” John answered the unasked question. “She’s not pleased but she at least understands.”

^.~

The problem with wanking was that bodies came to expect the sensation. The night John called Mary the detective made an attempt to ignore his body’s lusty need, but his body screamed at him. They went to bed, as usual. Weeks ago John had given up on his own room and slept in Sherlock’s bed. John could always be counted on to roll over and take over whenever Sherlock took himself in hand. 

But there was something different the night John called Mary. No longer was there any sort of sneaking about or shame. Mary knew, or at least suspected. Mary knew what they did and that knowledge kept Sherlock with his hands under his hips, vowing to keep from tempting John into going too far. 

But his body had been stimulated every single day for almost two months and it was sensitive. The last time he had been so frustrated with himself was in secondary when he first hit puberty. But he had conquered that inconvenience. 

“Sherlock… You’re shaking the bed.” John murmured from his side of the bed.

Sherlock stilled his foot which beat a staccato rhythm without his knowledge, causing the whole bed to shiver. One of his hands slipped free and touched the offending leg to make sure it kept still. But his body was oh so warm, hot actually. That heat radiated from his groin and his hand slipped up and up to cup his swollen scrotum. Was he swollen? Was that a side effect from denying himself? But it had only been a day since his last wank. Surely they couldn’t swell so quickly. And his penis was so hard against his belly… It was eager for a touch and…

John rolled over with a weary sigh and reached down to take Sherlock’s penis in hand. “You could just ask.”

“I was… Trying to stop myself.”

“You did a piss job on that.” John chuckled softly, squeezing Sherlock just a bit.

Sherlock turned onto his side, his back to John. “Don’t… Not unless you really mean it.”

John scooted closer, pressing his body against Sherlock’s back. His lips pressed against the back of Sherlock’s neck as he nuzzled against the warm flesh. “What do you want me to do, Sherlock?”

Sherlock grunted at the sensation and pushed his bottom back against John’s body, feeling something hard and warm press against him. Blindly his hand reached out for the nightstand and he found the bottle of oil to pass back to John.

John’s hand explored the other man’s thigh before resting on his hip. “Are you sure? If we do this…”

“What?” Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder. In the darkness he could barely make out John’s form. 

“We can’t really go back to what we were.” John finished almost lamely.

“We already crossed that bridge.” Sherlock answered, pushing himself back against John. 

“But not completely.” John added. Reaching across Sherlock he turned on the light. Sitting back he shyly looked over Sherlock’s naked form. 

“You’re going to reject me again… Aren’t you?” 

“Sherlock…” John sighed and reached out to pull the other man into his arms, head cradled against his chest and their legs tangled together. “I love you… You know that.” 

“But you just don’t love me enough to fuck me.” Sherlock complained from against John’s chest.

“I know I can take it… I’ve had practice. But I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you and then you’ll hate me.”

“You won’t hurt me.” Sherlock insisted. His hand reached down to touch John’s genitals. “You aren’t that big, John.”

“Gee… Thanks…” John chuckled. “Can you just be satisfied for now taking me instead? I don’t want your first experience to be… Bad.”

“Being repeatedly rejected by my chosen lover isn’t helping.” Sherlock stated as he squeezed John just a bit.

“I’m not rejecting you… I’m just concerned that you’re rushing into this without thinking about consequences.”

Sherlock looked up at John to assess the truth of that statement. John seemed sincere. The way John looked at him did interesting things to his anatomy. Scooting down John’s body he found himself at eye level with John’s penis. John did not cover it or put it away. It lay in a nest of pubic hair, reaching for his belly. It was unguarded so he kissed it.

“Oh…” John groaned but didn’t push Sherlock’s head away.

Sherlock’s tongue teased from base to glans, tasting the musky skin. His eyes made contact with John’s as his mouth surrounded the glans and sucked the appendage to the root. 

John’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head. “Sherlock…” 

Sherlock adjusted his position so he could take John deep into his throat. When John’s erection fully filled out he had a bit of trouble that his fist solved. “John…” Sherlock’s throat was husky with what he had been doing. “I finally got you inside of me.” And with that he swallowed John again. What he wasn’t expecting was for John to cry out and desperately try to push him away and yet pull him closer at the same time.

“Fuck, Sherlock… I’m coming!” John managed.

Sherlock resolved to stay where he was. If John could swallow him, he could do the same for John. But he wasn’t expecting the amount or the flavor. It made him cough and sputter as he got most of it down. John’s giggle made him sit up to regard the other man as he tried to contain the mess John had created. “What’s so funny?”

“I did warn you.” John chuckled.

Sherlock rubbed the damp he felt on his chin and licked it from the back of his hand. 

“You don’t have to swallow it all.” John reached out and pulled the detective back down to his chest. 

“You do!”

“I know what I’m doing.” John answered, running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “Was that the first time for you?”

Sherlock bit his lips and nodded, feeling less than adequate. 

John kissed his cheek and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders to keep him in place.

“I’m sticky…”

“You’re fine.” John breathed. “Just let me hold you.”

“I’m still hard.” Sherlock pointed out. In a matter of moments Sherlock found himself inelegantly humping John’s face. His body fought the urge to smother the poor man and yet John’s throat was so warm and wet. The detective’s knees were getting shaky and he worried he wouldn’t be able to stay on his hands and knees, straddling John’s head for very long. Something probed at his asshole and he cried out as he felt it push into him. His hips frantically moved, chasing his orgasm. It came and he lay face down on the bed, feeling a little dirty and exposed. Vaguely he was aware when John moved out from under him. 

“It’s alright…” John soothed, patting the plush bottom. “You’re fine.”

Sherlock rolled onto his side and looked up at the man who had the ability to make him fall apart so easily. When December came would he be able to give John up?

“Do you want a shower now?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded.

^.~

Sherlock stood over the body. The mid November air was just crisp enough to keep it from decaying. 

“You’re doing so much better.” Lestrade commented as he watched the consulting detective work. There were no more looks of pain or gasping for air. Sherlock was on the mend and returning to his previous level of activity.

“It’s all the sex.” Sherlock muttered as he squinted through his magnifying glass. The comment was low, almost too low for anyone aside from Lestrade or John to hear.

John turned red and took a step away.

“Building stamina…” Sherlock offered as he sat back on his heels to regard the body.

“Well… Whatever it is… It’s working.” Lestrade commented, choosing not to take Sherlock’s words at face value. Besides… Where would Sherlock Holmes have access to sex?

^.~

“You told him!” John burst out when they entered the flat.

“It’s not like he believed me.” Sherlock responded as he sat upon the couch. “Even if he did… Why would he assume that I was having sex with you?”

“I’m living with you! He knows that. He doesn’t know I’m separated from Mary, but he does know I’m currently your live in doctor. And if it’s not me, then he knows I know who it is!” John was working himself up into a state, pacing the floor before the coffee table.

“Are you ashamed of what we’ve been doing?”

John stopped his pacing and glared at Sherlock. “Why would I be ashamed?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, technically I’m still married.” John resumed his pacing. “Lestrade knows that. If he suspected that I’m the one shagging you…”

“You have been living with me since I came out of hospital the second time with no indication that you will ever return to your wife. I suppose even he must wonder why. But it would require more observation on his part to suspect that you sleep with me. In the past you made it quite clear that you prefer female company. I’m not a woman.”

“I know you’re not a woman.” John burst out and stopped in his pacing. “Do you really think he doesn’t know?”

“Lestrade doesn’t know my preference.” Sherlock answered, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “But he knows yours.” The buttons popped open one by one.

John stared at the pale expanse of Sherlock’s chest. “Aren’t you cold?”

“That’s why I’m going to bed.” And with that Sherlock got up from the couch and sauntered off towards the bedroom. “It was nice to be able to work again.”

“Soon you’ll be fully functional.” John followed Sherlock into the bedroom and stood by the door to watch him undress.

“I am already functional.” The detective glanced back over his shoulder to give John one his annoyed looks. The shirt fell to the floor, revealing a back was faint scars. The chill in the room caused him to shiver and he returned his focus to the bed, undoing his trousers to push them down over his bottom. Stepping out of his shoes, he reached down to remove his socks, wondering if John was appreciating this little strip tease. What did it do to John? And then a warm body pressed against his back and he leaned against it, taking advantage of the other man’s body temperature. 

“You know what that does to me.”

“Oh? What does it do to you?” Sherlock asked airily.

John responded by pressing his trouser bound erection against Sherlock’s backside. “Sherlock Holmes… You know you’re teasing me into arousal.”

“Is that what I was doing?” Sherlock smirked as he stared at the bed. And with his pants dropped to the floor he leaned forward to place one knee up on the bed. 

“Fuck…” John whimpered and there was a sound of a belt and a zip before something warm and solid pressed against Sherlock’s thigh. 

With his hands bracing himself on the bed, Sherlock looked back over his shoulder at John’s form melded against his back. Pushing back, he heard John grunt in his ear. “Would you like some oil?” 

“I can get it.” John briefly pulled away from Sherlock’s body to grab the bottle on the nightstand. “We’re running low.”

“It’s all the sex…” Sherlock mused, thinking of what he had let slip during the case.

John touched Sherlock’s hip, going still. His face was pressed against the other man’s skin, sending warm tendrils of breath against it. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Sherlock whispered as he reached back to take John’s hand and pull it around his body to touch his erection. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You have the oil.” Sherlock returned his hand to the bed to brace himself on the mattress, pressing back against John’s body as the other man played with his genitals. And then there were fingers. Full, thick fingers probing someplace intimate and tight. Biting down on the duvet, he kept himself from crying out and risking John pulling away. Those fingers were inside of him, stretching him, making him burn and ache. “Fuck…” It was dampened by the fabric between his teeth, but it was enough to cause the doctor to pause.

“Am I hurting you?” John whispered, his breath hot against Sherlock’s spine.

“No… Not at all.” Sherlock managed as he adjusted his stance, hoping that it would help.

“Let me know…” John trailed off as his fingers resumed their exploration. 

They felt slippery and almost dirty. Sherlock tried not to think about what his body was doing as another finger pushed into him and angled down to make him cry out and move his hips. 

“It’s alright… Shh… Alright…” John soothed, keeping his fingers in place. 

“Please, John… I need…” Sherlock gasped, trying to keep control over the sensations. “I need something else.”

There was a sound of a zip and then John’s fingers pulled out. Something else took their place and slowly pushed in.

Sherlock clutched the duvet, feeling like John was overwhelming him. It seemed to last forever until finally warm stomach and thighs pressed against him. 

“That’s it, love.” John whispered, pressing a wet kiss to Sherlock’s spine. “We’ll just stay like this… Until you’re ready.” Oily fingers held Sherlock’s hips, keeping them in place.

But Sherlock didn’t want to stay in place. Aggressively he pushed back, causing John to gasp and give a retaliatory push. It felt primal and good. And Sherlock moved again.

“Stop, stop!” John begged and stepped back, leaving Sherlock empty and confused. “Roll over?”

Obediently Sherlock rolled over and looked up at John, still half-dressed and exposed. 

John seemed to return to his senses and began to inelegantly undress, struggling out of his clothes before climbing on top of Sherlock, in between his legs. Somehow they managed to push back together and John gave a soft grunt as he began to move.

Sherlock watched him in awe. His body was tight and full of John… And John made those little noises as he moved, slowly picking up speed. John’s eyes were on him, making him feel a little shy at the attention. But then John’s lips were upon him and he forgot about what he must look like. Instead he focused on John fucking him, holding him… Wanting him. Had John always wanted him? Sherlock heard a noise. It sounded like someone was crying out rhythmically with each movement of John’s hips. It took him a moment to realize it was himself. But he couldn’t help it… His body desperately wanted to ejaculate. And then with a final cry he climaxed, feeling John continue for a few seconds more before he went still.

For a long time they lay in panting for breath in the now silent room. Finally breathing returned to normal and John stirred, pulling away from Sherlock’s body. A soft chuckle escaped him as he rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “Oh… Love… All this time… I didn’t know you were a screamer.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Sherlock swallowed, his throat feeling raw.

John kissed him breathless.

^.~

Sherlock entered the living room, expecting it to be vacant. His brother’s presence was annoying. “Did you wait for John to leave?” Sherlock demanded as he went to the kitchen to claim the tea John had made for him before he left.

“I may have passed him in the hall…” Mycroft mused from where he sat in John’s chair.

“What do you want?”

“We need to iron out our details… Christmas. May I ask why a former Dr. William Wiggins made your list? I can’t imagine what use you may have for a chemist who fell from his post at a pharmaceutical company.”

Sherlock entered the room and sat on his chair, cup of tea set on the table beside him. “You can’t just hand your laptop over to me. Magnussen will know. I plan to have Wiggins drug the party so it will look like I nicked your laptop.”

“Who are you planning to drug?”

“Mummy, father... Mary. And of course you.”

“Of course.” Mycroft sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose I can fake being drugged?”

“I’m afraid not. He will know.”

“Very well…” Mycroft stood and headed towards the door. Once he reached it he stopped and turned around to regard his brother. “You play a very dangerous game… With John.”

“Not that it’s any of your business… But it’s not a game.”

“He will hurt you again. Mary can give him something you can’t.”

“I think you will find that I can also give him something she can’t.”

“When children are involved you will lose.” Mycroft stated and then left Sherlock alone.

For a long time Sherlock stared at the door, his eyes burning and his throat clenching with each swallow. His nose burned and finally he reached up to rub the sensation away, sniffling. 

^.~

Sherlock listened to John snore beside him. Christmas was a few weeks away and soon… Soon John would have to return to the real world where he was a husband and father. A pale, slender hand reached for the doctor, feeling the warmth of the other man’s body heat. Sherlock scooted closer, wrapping his arm around John’s body and spooning him from behind.

John grunted in his sleep and settled into Sherlock’s embrace with a sigh and a return to his snoring, oblivious to the other man’s pain. 

Sherlock bowed his head and took a deep whiff of John’s hair, committing it to memory along with the feel of his body. Never again would he put himself through this, he promised himself. Never again would he take another to his bed. These past few months was his one chance to be normal… To be loved.

John went still, his snoring stopped. And then groggily, “Sherl?”

“Mm…” Sherlock hummed, wrapping himself tighter against John’s back, arm around his waist. 

John clumsily reached back to pat Sherlock’s hip. “Is alright…” His voice was gruff with sleepiness. “Go back to sleep.”

Sherlock desperately wanted to know what would happen to the relationship after Christmas. Would things continue? Would John leave Mary? The detective couldn’t imagine himself in any sort of paternal role for the child. And there was always the possibility that things would go sour with Magnussen and Sherlock would have to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect John. And then none of this worry would matter, would it? Because John would go on living and Sherlock’s life would be forfeit. Sherlock tightened his grip in John, imagining him being torn away.

“Sherl…” John grunted and struggled to roll over in Sherlock’s grip. Somehow he managed to turn onto his back so he could touch the other man’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Sherlock shrugged and leaned down, lightly kissing John’s lips. 

John’s fingers caressed Sherlock’s cheek a moment before he broke the kiss. “You’re crying.”

“Am I?” Sherlock whispered in the darkness. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m going to lose you.”

“What?!” John sat up and desperately reached for the lamp. When the light came on it took a few moments for both to regain their eyesight. “What do you mean, you’re going to lose me?”

“Did you have to turn on the light?”

“I want to see you when you lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie!”

John sat up against the headboard, his skin yellow in the light of the lamp. “Tell me what you mean. Why are you so upset?”

“You’re…” Sherlock paused, unsure how to proceed. “You’ll be going back to Mary soon.” His words felt weak. 

John reached out and lightly touched Sherlock’s shoulder. “Come here.”

Sherlock found himself practically in John’s lap as the doctor held him. 

“We’ll figure it out.” John whispered. His lips kissed unruly brown curls. “We’ll find a way.” His hand caressed a pale shoulder. “I’m not going to let you go… Not if you don’t want me to.” His embrace tightened and he shut his eyes.

Sometimes what we want isn’t very important.

^.~

Sherlock kept his hands up in surrender. His eye caught movement behind him as he heard Mycroft yell out commands over the sound of the helicopter. All he could do was stay where he was… Stay where he was and pray that no one shot John by mistake. John had to live. Please… John had to live.

^.~

John nervously paced the floor of the flat, back and forth as Sherlock stood with his back to the door. Mary sat on the sofa, regarding her husband’s nervous energy. “Tell me what just happened… With you and the plane… And Moriarty. What was that?”

Sherlock watched John’s feet as they paced the worn rug. It was almost hypnotic. 

“Sherlock!” John snarled, coming to rest in front of Sherlock’s line of sight. “What was that?”

Sherlock shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? You know everything!” John barked.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Sherlock bit out each word.

John took a deep breath and nodded. “Your mission… Your six month mission that was punishment… Did you know it was a suicide mission?”

Sherlock blinked, taking in the intensity in John’s face… The way his eyebrows came together in a deep furrow and his lips turned down just so…

“Sherlock!” 

With a swallow and a tiny shake of his head, Sherlock turned his attention to Mary on the sofa. “There was always a small chance it wouldn’t…”

John growled in annoyance and turned away to resume his pacing. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you? You weren’t going to tell me!”

“Technically my mission to take out Moriarty’s web was a suicide mission and yet I somehow managed to return from that…”

John spun around and hit the door on each side of Sherlock’s body. “When did you find out?”

“Christmas morning… I was told that it would be my punishment for Magnussen.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“You would have stopped us from going.”

“You’re right. I would have.”

“Magnussen would still be out there, a threat to everyone.”

“So you just threw your life away.” 

“I had to. There was no other way.”

Wearily John pulled away and rubbed his face with his hands. 

“I won’t apologize for my actions. I know what I did and why. I can’t expect either of you to understand. It was personal.”

“Stop!” John commanded, holding up a hand.

“You sacrificed yourself for John.” Mary finally spoke up from the sofa. “You did it for John.”

“I said, ‘stop!’” John growled, indignantly. “Whose side are you on?”

Mary looked between the two men before setting her eyes on her husband. “Yours. And because I am, I’m telling you… He did it for you. He did it to protect you. Didn’t you tell me once that you did the exact same thing in order to protect him when you first met?”

“That was nothing like this!” 

“The only difference is that he got caught and he was going to be punished for it. You risked the same thing. Except at the time it was duty, not personal. Now it’s personal.” 

Sherlock kept his eyes on the rug, annoyed that he was embarrassed by Mary’s frank assessment of his actions. 

“Now you two are even.” Mary finished, cocking her head to the side and giving them a look as if she dared either one of them to contradict her.

“She’s right…” John finally fell into his chair, defeated.

“Of course she’s right. Mary is clever.” Sherlock answered, still leaning against the door.

The silence in the room dragged out for a long time, none of them willing to be the first to break it. Finally Mary’s leg shifted to aid her circulation.

“Well… This is awkward…” Sherlock mused. 

“You’re sharing the same bed.” Mary announced, drawing both men’s attention to her. Rolling her eyes, she shifted her position. “I’m not stupid. When John called last month he said that you two have taken your relationship to the next level. But for how long?”

“How long?” John echoed.

“Was it before or after I shot him?” Mary clarified.

“After.” Sherlock answered. “John is very… Loyal.”

“So when I broke that loyalty…” Mary didn’t finish her thought but let it hang in the room.

“Without knowing who this is or why they are using Moriarty… We’ll need to take precautions.” Sherlock announced as he pushed himself away from the door and crossed to his chair. 

“What sort of precautions?” John asked, a bit confused at the change of topic.

“We don’t know this enemy. Whoever they were, they waited for Magnussen to be taken out before coming into play.”

“You think they are connected? Perhaps someone is connected to both Magnussen and this Moriarty?” Mary asked.

“Magnussen knew my weak spots. I think you should move in with us.” Sherlock announced and got up from his chair to head into the kitchen.

“Wait… What?” John demanded from where he sat. 

“Mary can have your old room.” Sherlock stated from where he fiddled with the kettle.

“Just like that?” John asked.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but Mary is very pregnant.”

“I know how reproduction works, Sherlock…” John groaned.

“Her skills are inhibited by her condition.” Sherlock reasoned. “The logical solution is that she not be left alone to fend for herself. Your old room is free so… Mary can move in.”

“But…” John began, looking to Mary for guidance.

“I think it’s a brilliant plan.” Mary stated. “He’s right… I don’t have the flexibility or the speed. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“Of course I’m right…” Sherlock muttered as he prepared tea.

“Are you sure?” John queried the pregnant woman.

“I’m sure.” Mary answered. “Besides now I know why Mycroft left a bag for me. It’s his plan, isn’t it?” Her last question was directed to the kitchen. 

Sherlock made no comment but entered the living room with three steaming mugs he passed around.

“You made tea…” John sniffed at his tea as if he suspected it to be tainted.

Sherlock took a cautious sip, burning his tongue, and sat down on his chair. “This was my idea, actually. But Mycroft agreed. Until we find out who this is Mary is at risk. We either send her to a safe house or…”

“Or I move in here. I get it.” Mary set her mug down on the coffee table. 

“At least until you recover from childbirth or we find out who this is and stop them.” Sherlock answered with another sip to his tea. 

“What about me?” John asked, setting down his own mug.

“What about you?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was attempting to meet his eyes but he refused, still feeling a bit like the third wheel in the relationship.

“I’m not ready to go back to what we had… Mary.” John stated.

“I know.” Mary gave him a sad smile. “I guess it’s enough for now that you’ll even allow me in the same building. I promise I won’t hurt your Sherlock.” With a sigh she got up from the sofa. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go up now?”

“I’ll carry your bag up.” John got up and escorted Mary out of the room.

Sherlock sat alone in the living room, sipping on his tea. Casually he wondered if John really would return tonight or stay with the mother of his child. As he swallowed the last of his tea he got up and returned the mug to the kitchen before heading to his bedroom. Changing into pajamas felt like it was automatic even though only a few months before it had been nearly impossible. Staring down at his chest, his finger lightly traced the divot in his chest.

“Admiring yourself?” John’s voice asked rom the doorway.

Sherlock startled and pulled his shirt over his head. “No.”

“I know you were.” John chuckled as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. “You were looking at yourself and thinking, ‘damn, I’m irresistible!’” John closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. 

“I was looking at my scar.” Sherlock replied with some annoyance. There was no way John could think he was that vain, could he?

“Of course you were…” John mused in such a way that Sherlock almost felt like he was being patronized. Except John began to nuzzle Sherlock’s back between his scapula and his hands rested on the detective’s hips as if he planned to remove the sweats.

“John?” Sherlock stared at the bed in confusion.

“Get into bed, love…” John whispered.

Immediately Sherlock obeyed and budged over as John stripped to his pants and vest and slipped in behind him. For a few moments they settled in together, John’s warmth and solid mass pressed against Sherlock’s back in the dim light of the bedside lamp. 

John’s fingers lightly explored the detective’s body before finding skin at his waist and following it up under his shirt to his chest. “I almost lost you again. You would have left me behind and I never would have known.”

John’s touch against the scars felt odd and Sherlock caught his hand to keep it from moving too much. “I’m here now.”

John took a deep breath and pressed a warm kiss to the back of Sherlock’s neck. “I can’t stop you… Just… Don’t forget about us.”

Sherlock shifted onto his back, pulling John against his side. “I won’t forget. Does this mean there is an ‘us’?”

John gave him a soft, shy smile and leaned down to chastely kiss his lips. “There was always an ‘us.’” His head rested on the other man’s shoulder. “We going to sleep with the light on?”

“I might get up later.”

“Mm… I’ll just be here then.” John breathed as he closed his eyes.

Sherlock watched John sleep, comforted by the weight of his companion pressed against him. As always John’s presence excited him but he found he could be satisfied by just having him near. Reaching out his free arm he turned off the lamp and listened to his lover begin to snore.

Besides… He could always shag John senseless tomorrow morning. Sherlock smirked and kissed John’s temple. 

\--Fin


End file.
